


The clock keeps ticking.

by Turnouthelights



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Blood, Dissociation, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sadstuck, Starvation, Vomiting, if i manage to write for this soon trust me it will get super gay, its not super bad i promise, this is so old but i never posted it here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turnouthelights/pseuds/Turnouthelights
Summary: John’s life fell apart the day he died.





	1. Chapter 1

Time should’ve stopped. It should’ve stopped the moment that he-

Its not fair. It doesn’t have any right to keep going. The world should’ve stopped at that very moment. No one can expect you to keep going right now. You can’t. You haven’t any time to accept it. Fuck, you barely even remember what happened. You don’t know. If asked what you did that day, you wouldn’t be able to give a proper answer.

“I don’t know.”

Its kind of scary how you don’t feel much of anything. Its so quiet. You wish it weren’t. You wish you could hear the sounds of baking in your kitchen again. God, don’t think about it, you’ll get upset again. You have to keep your mind off of it.

What are you supposed to do?

You don’t know.

He always helped you with this kind of thing. You don’t know what to do with yourself anymore.

Your stomach grumbles. That’s to be expected; you haven’t left your room for three days. You know you should eat, but, uh. You’re not sure you can enter your kitchen without bursting into tears. You’re not ready.

You don’t have the energy to get up. You haven’t moved at all for…how long has it been now?

You don’t know.

You roll out of bed and fall on the floor. Ow. Oh hey, you felt something. This is progress, right?

You’re so alone.

Its your own fault; you turned off your cellphone, unplugged the house phone, turned off your computer on the first day. It was too much. Its all too much and it won’t stop, even if absolutely nothing is happening.

You still hear it. It wasn’t even that much noise, but it seemed like a hurricane in that moment.

It was all your fault.

You sit up, and. Sit. You just sit there, staring at the floor space between your legs. What were you going to do again?

You get up sluggishly, trudge out of your room. You feel like it had something to do with downstairs. Clamber down the stairs. You almost trip and fall once. You wouldn’t care if you did, honestly.

You don’t realize you’re in the kitchen until you are. Standing in the middle of the room, hunched over, arms holding onto each other. Everything looks normal, nothing out of place. Its strange. You hear ticking. The clock on the oven is wrong by an hour. Its all so strange.

Its wrong.

Everything blurs for a minute, just a minute. You’re screaming, but you don’t hear yourself. You’re crying, but you don’t feel the tears leave your eyes. Your hand is through the glass, but you don’t feel pain. Its a searing, white hot rage, sorrow, guilt, rage sorrow guilt its all your fault you did this to him you did it its all your fault all your fault all your fault allyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault

You killed him.

The clock keeps ticking.

You call Dave.

Through your sobs, you manage to tell him you can’t stay there. You need out. He offers to let you stay with him for a while. You say you’d like that a lot right now. He comes to pick you up a little later. He’s visibly surprised to see you in your current state, and to be honest, you can’t say you blame him. Tear tracks down your cheeks, face red probably, glass stuck in your knuckle and blood dripping down from it, still in your pajamas and having not showered for at least four days. You’re a wreck.

Your life shattered the day his heart stopped.

You miss him so, so much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s just so, so tired.

Dave looks up at you under long blonde eyelashes. His shades sit on top of his head as he looks back down at your hand, cradling it in his carefully. He picks another piece of glass out of your knuckle with his tweezers. You didn’t know he kept a med kit in his truck, but you’re so thankful he does. You didn’t want to go back in there.

Its quiet, but a completely different kind of quiet. Its a soft quiet out here, crickets chirp, the entire neighborhood asleep while you sit in the passenger seat sideways, door open, headlights on and pointing at your house. Its such a blaring white, the lights on your perfectly white house. Just a bit breezy; cooling on your skin. You feel disgusting.

Dave doesn’t say anything, just keeps pick, pick, picking the glass out. Turns your hand around in his every once in a while, checking to make sure he got it all. Drops the tweezers in the kit, pulls out a rag and wets it down with a random bottle of water he found sitting on the floorboard. Its probably stale. Dabs the blood away and checks carefully for any bigger cuts. You can’t say it hurts, not really. It should probably hurt a lot more than it does.

He starts wrapping your hand in a bandage. Of course he’d know the correct way to do it. Dave is a well of knowledge, some of it not the kind of thing you’d want to know, but hey.

Dave breaks the silence. “I’m going in for a few minutes, alright? Stay right here. Play temple run on my phone or something, I don’t care, just don’t leave the truck.” He tells you. You nod. You mean, where would you even go? Back in there? Sure. You’re bare foot, too. You aren’t going anywhere.

He leaves you there and goes in the house. A light turns on in the living room. You can imagine how he’s grimacing, blood on the carpet and glass cabinet door shattered in the kitchen, your room probably smells like a garbage dump. You put Dave through so much, you feel so bad now. Its all your fault.

You grab his phone from the cup holder in the middle console. That is a bright light, ow. Oh hey, he’s got neko atsume, fuck yeah. A thousand and fourty-four goldfish?! Holy shit, he’s loaded. You smile at the phone. Small, feels a little strange. Doesn’t last long, but its something. You like Tubs, mostly because there’s a trick to him not a lot of people know. Nicest cat, in your opinion. Dave hates him, ha.

Ten minutes later, he comes back out of your house, your keys in hand and the dufflebag you used when you first went to college in the other. Locks the door, tosses the bag in the back and hops in. You shut your door and sink lower in the seat. Dave spares you a look, but doesn’t say anything. Starts up his truck and pulls out of the driveway. You don’t look as your house slowly disappears from view behind you.

Dave lives in a small apartment in town, his brother pays for the rent and utilities while Dave works for food and extra spending money. He wanted to go to college here in Seattle. You and Dave shared a room in the first semester.

You feel so, so bad now. You’re dragging Dave into this, your very best friend. He’s always been your ride or die friend, you know he’d do anything he could for you. You would for him, too. You just don’t feel right about making him a part of it, but you know he’d say its nothing, don’t worry about it dude. Like he always does.

You like the city at night. It doesn’t seem so hectic, it seems lively and fun, bright lights all around crowds of people laughing and going into buildings, bursts of music here and there.

He goes into the underground parking for his apartment building. Yellowing lights buzz and click and flicker, the parking space otherwise completely silent. Dead. Its such a contrast to how the city is just outside. Turns off the truck and hops out, grabs your bag before going around to your side. He pulls your old tennis shoes out of the bag and hands them to you. No socks, just slip them on. You’re just going up to his apartment anyway.

You’re still in your pajamas. And they probably have blood on them. Dave notices you fidget about your shirt and the blood stain on the side, sighs and grabs your hand before tugging you out of the truck. He kicks the door close and clicks that beepy button on his keyring before dragging you along.

You ride the elevator in silence. You feel so awkward, you don’t know what to say to him. You should probably thank him, he’s helping you so much, but it doesn’t feel right to say that right now. You’ll wait a bit longer. Dave shifts his weight from one foot to the other. What floor is his apartment on, anyway? Just how many floors does this building even have?

Dave tugs your hand, standing outside of the elevator. Oh. When did you start spacing out?

You jolt into motion, follow along behind him. You feel so strange, so…just not right. Everything seems far too surreal, its like everything is just a bit fuzzy, blurry around the edges. You’re getting dizzy.

“Hey, we’re literally right there, wait until I unlock the door before you pass out or something.” You snap to attention at his voice, but it still feels like your every move is slowed down, slow to register what’s happening around you. Dave looks at you a bit longer, shades never returned to his face since he saw you at the door earlier. You always thought his eyes were interesting. You kinda wish you could see them more often, but he never has them off this long unless he’s being dead serious.

He unlocks the door and grabs your wrist, tugging you inside with him. You’ve never been in his apartment. He locks the door behind you both, comes around your side and half-heartedly swings his arms out. “Ta-da. Casa de Strider.” You look around.

The room is a combination living room and kitchen, a small square table with a couple of chairs about in the middle of the two sides of the room. Not super fancy, but a TV and game stands beside it, a beige couch sitting in front of it. There’s a bag of open doritos on the couch, but its otherwise pretty neat in here. The TV is on. You wonder if Dave was sitting there not long ago, just watching tv and snacking before you called. Guilt.

“Like, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch, if that’s what you’re thinking about with that face. You can take my bed and I can take the couch.” He walks over to the couch and picks up the discarded bag of chips, rolling them up.

“N-…No, I…” Eugh, ew, what is that taste? Is this what happens when you don’t brush your teeth for four days? “I’m uh, I’m fine on the couch. You’re doing a lot for me already, I mean. Thanks. I’m.” Fidget. You’ve never been the stuttering kind.

Dave pauses as he puts away the bag in the kitchen. “Yeah, no problem dude. We’ll figure out something for sleeping arrangements. Don’t worry about it.” He goes to sit on the couch, looks at you like you should be doing the same.

You kick off your shoes and move to the couch, flop down along with him. He takes the shades off his head and folds them, sets them on the small coffee table in front of him.

You lay your head on the back of the couch. Deep breath in, out. It smells amazing here compared to your house. You can actually breathe here. 

You’re so tired.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How bad could it get?

You wake up slow, sun coming in a window and shining through your eyelids is the first thing you register. Its giving you a headache. Your neck hurts, you feel overly hot and your muscles are cramped all over.

You realize you fell asleep sitting up on the couch. That explains a bit.

You slowly open your eyes, snap them shut again. Its so fucking bright. Shield your eyes and look around, try to adjust. Everything is all blurry. Your glasses are on the far side of the coffee table. Reach over and grab them, put them on, the blanket rolls off and bunches up on your lap. Jesus, he doesn’t even have curtains for the window. You won’t be able to go back to sleep. You move to the other side of the couch to get out of the sun, leaving the blanket where you were.

You feel empty. Literally and metaphorically. Your stomach is devoid of anything.

A door on the left side of the room opens, Dave steps out. Sees you looking over at him curiously. He’s in only his underwear, his light chest and little pudgy stomach and usually covered arms completely visible. As is his pasty hairy legs. “Sup.”

You open your mouth, but shut it again, not sure what to say. What? Its easy to answer, just “hey”, but you just don’t feel right saying anything. And that feels even worse.

“I’m gonna make breakfast. I don’t know what you did for the past few days or anything, but you didn’t eat last night, so.” He walks across the room to the kitchen, idly scratches the back of his head while he peers into the fridge. You watch him the whole time, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“What d'you wanna eat?” Dave asks over his shoulder. You suck your lip inbetween your teeth. “I..don’t know.”

A pause. “S'cool. I’ll just make toast or something. Or we could raid the ice cream.” You smile crookedly, just a bit.

“You should’ve told me you had ice cream sooner.” Dave snorts, opens the freezer and pulls out the small tub of chocolate ice cream. You get up, just a bit dizzy, go over to the table. Dave hands you a spoon and sits down with you, and you dig in. You make it to about four spoonfuls of ice cream until you start to feel sick.

Suddenly, you’re dropping your spoon and jumping up out of the chair, almost running to the other side of the room to what you figure is the bathroom. Dave goes “What the hell?” behind you as you slip into the bathroom and throw up what you just ate into the toilet. You guess your stomach isn’t all that good after you refused to eat for so long.

Dave comes up behind you as you hang over the toilet, eyes watering and feeling even more gross. “Uh..?” He goes. You aren’t sure how to answer, either.

You wash out your mouth in the sink. Dave leaves the bathroom, rummages around in something, comes back with a change of clothes and your toothbrush. “You wanna shower or something? While you’re in here?” You probably stink. You guess you should, but it sounds like such a chore. You nod and take the clothes, laying them on the bathroom counter.

“I’ll be out here if you, like, need anything. ‘Kay.” He leaves the bathroom.

Yeah, shower. You guess. No yeah you should, you feel so gross. You’ll feel a lot better after one.

“You wanna try eating again?” Dave asks. You grimace and shake your head. Dave runs his hand through his hair, “You gotta eat though, dude. Here,” He goes over to a cabinet, pulls out a pack of saltine crackers. “Maybe you can keep these down. Drink some water with it.” He sets the pack on the table in front of you and gets a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“You can like, sleep in my bed while I’m gone, if you want. Or go out and do something if you get bored. Your phone is in your bag.” Dave says as he’s slipping shoes on. You still don’t say anything, so he goes “I get off about six. Try not to set the apartment on fire? Cool.” You snort, Dave smiles, flips his shades down over his eyes and heads out the door.

You stare at the door for a long time. You try to focus on the saltine crackers. You end up pausing and just staring, not really seeing anything or thinking anything. Blank. You shake your head furiously, making you dizzy again, to try and focus. You aren’t going to eat anything, at least not right now. Not after what happened only half an hour ago. You will need to eat soon, though.

You head for the couch and turn on the tv. You figure you can kill some time this way. This only serves to entertain you for about an hour before you’re too bored to pay attention to it anymore. You glance at the crackers and water still sitting on the table.

You’ll eat a few. It can’t be that bad with just plain crackers, right? You make sure to eat slowly, get a swig of water occasionally, hoping it’ll settle your stomach. You manage to keep your food down this time. Now what can you do..? Its still several hours until Dave comes home.

You consider going out, but decide against it. You’re just really not up to it right now.

You go and lay on the couch, first throwing the extra blanket onto the back of it. You remove your glasses, putting them on the table. You rub at your eyes with your fingers and look at the popcorn ceiling. You try your hardest to keep your mind off of that. You’re staying with Dave, you’ll figure stuff out eventually, but right now you just want to forget about it.

You’ve never cried like you did last night. Not even right after it happened, not even when it finally sank in; You guess you let things stay bottled up for too long and they finally…bursted out. You lift your bandaged hand. You should ask Dave to change them tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I SWEAR I posted this on my ao3 at some point but its not anywhere to be found, so here we go. I reread this recently and decided "hmm. maybe i'll write for this old thing again" 'cause i never finished it, and its got something goin for it I like to think. I haven't written anything in like over a year tho. We'll see.


End file.
